Wings of Honor Craig Andrews (ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📖

“That's where you're mistaken, Ensign. You're one of over one hundred fifty pilots in a single graduating class from a single academy. There are others like it. Pilots, we have, Ensign. Drones, on the other hand… So maybe if you were in a more demanding field like advanced manufacturing or robotic engineering, something where you had to use that tiny brain of yours, I might be more lenient.”

“This isn't just any academy, though, sir. This is the Terran Fleet Academy. The best of the best. And I'm in command of its top squadron. Surely that counts for something.”

“It does,” Captain Hughes said. “Which is why you’re being allowed to graduate. You’ll be stationed either in the Orbital Defense Force or on one of the smaller vessels deeper in the black. But you won’t be on the front.”

“All because of a little fistfight, sir?” Coda couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The Terran Fleet Academy was a military institution. Violence wasn’t just encouraged; it was taught.

“Because you clearly don’t understand what it takes to be a part of a squadron. When you’re in battle, a real battle, your fellow wingmen need to have absolute trust in you. There’s no room for grudges. There’s no room for ego. And there sure as hell isn’t room for pilots who aren’t capable of learning from their mistakes.”

The jumble of emotions inside Coda was nearly enough to break him. Anger, frustration, devastation, confusion—he could barely tell them apart. They mixed with the fear he’d already felt, causing sweat to drip down his back and his eyes to water. He attempted to blink the emotion away, but it was too much. Captain Hughes was right. Controlling emotions was a requirement for any great pilot. And Coda just didn’t have it.

But buried deeper was something that kept Coda standing, kept him from lashing out, from giving up. Determination.

He was Callan O’Neil. The cards had been stacked against him his entire life. He’d been through worse, faced stiffer odds, and still been accepted to the most prestigious flight academy in the Sol Fleet. This was only a setback, and one he refused to accept. He would fight. He would succeed. And when he won, he would smile at Andrei, Captain Hughes, and anyone else who had tried to stand in his way. He would make fools out of all of them.

“Let me remind you, son,” Captain Hughes continued, his voice taking on a more somber tone. “We are at war with an enemy more terrifying than you can imagine. They have the advantage in technology. They have the advantage of numbers. And they’ve had us on the defensive for longer than you’ve been alive. We’re the only thing that stands between them and the destruction of the human race. They don’t give a damn about your family history or personal grudges. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Coda said.

“Good,” Captain Hughes said. “Because if you’re to stay in the drone fleet, you will begin your career elsewhere.”

Coda blinked. “If, sir?”

Captain Hughes uncrossed his arms and stood with a sigh. “You’re being given a choice, Ensign.”

“Between what, sir?” Coda tried to temper the hope blooming in his chest.

Captain Hughes didn’t respond, though. Instead, the door opened behind Coda, and another man strode in. He was shorter than the captain by a few centimeters though still thickly built, with ebony skin and closely cropped black hair peppered with white. Lines creased his forehead and the edges of his mouth, drawing Coda’s eye to his brown eyes and full lips.

Coda struggled not to stare. The man in front of him was straight out of military legend. He’d killed more Baranyk than any other known pilot and was someone Coda had studied and tried to emulate during his time at the academy. Commander Chadwick Coleman.

“Ensign,” Commander Coleman said. “You know who I am?”

“Yes, sir. It’s an honor, sir.”

“Spare it, Ensign,” Commander Coleman said. “There’s no time for flattery. I have a number of these to get through, so I’ll be brief. I’m putting together a special squadron, and I want you to compete for a spot in it.”

“Sir, I—”

“Before you give me your answer, Ensign, there are a few things you need to understand. There are no guarantees. You’ll have to earn your place. And by ‘special,’ I mean top secret. Nobody can know who or what’s involved. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And it’ll be dangerous. Far more dangerous than anything you’ve experienced, maybe even more dangerous than being on the front itself. But I’m offering you a chance to fly, Ensign.”

“How many other pilots will be in the squadron, sir?”

“A few.”

“Any I know, sir?”

“Perhaps.”

“And who might I expect, sir?”

“Other pilots like yourself, Ensign. Pilots who have shown a knack for flying but might not have all the qualities Captain Hughes is looking for.”

“How long will the deployment last, sir?”

“That depends on how successful we are.”

Despite the commander’s elusive answers, Coda wanted to say yes on the spot. Very few pilots had the chance to fly under the great Commander Coleman. But he had one last question. One that was essential to his longer-term goals.

“Will I get to kill Baranyk, sir?”

A smile parted Commander Coleman’s face, exposing teeth as white as porcelain. “You might, Ensign. You very well might.”

For the first time since beating Shadow Squadron, Coda felt like smiling. “Then sign me up, sir.”

Commander Coleman pulled a tablet from the inside of his uniform and held it before Coda. “Just need your prints, Ensign.”

Coda should have been more nervous than he was, but he placed the palm of his hand against the tablet, allowing it to scan and record his prints. Little green boxes similar to his targeting-guidance system appeared around his fingertips, then when the tablet had taken a proper scan, they flashed, indicating a successful scan.

“Welcome to the training program, Ensign,” Commander Coleman said. “Or should I say Lieutenant?”

Coda let himself smile. He wouldn’t be promoted a full lieutenant yet, of course, merely a lieutenant junior grade, but it